The Comet
by The Official Canadian Teabag
Summary: "I conclude, therefore, that this star is not some kind of comet or a fiery meteor... but that it is a star shining in the firmament itself one that has never previously been seen before our time, in any age since the beginning of the world." Human AU.


_It was a comet._

Everyone, I'd like you all to welcome Mr. Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo to the board."

Heads turned. Even Lovino looked up. He hadn't before. He wasn't sure why today was any different than any other day.

And when he looked up, his mind and body and soul all flipped into reverse.

_The boy saw a comet._

It was like staring into the sun. You know you shouldn't be looking at it for too long, but its sheer beauty and brightness makes it almost metaphysically impossible to look away.

Antonio smiled, and Lovino's heart flew up like a rocket through the roof.

"Hi," The sun said, and slipped into the cubicle next to the Italian.

That was all it took. That one little word, two letters, one syllable, but it was the doorway into the next best thing in the world.

_The boy saw the comet and he felt as though his life had meaning._

Days passed. Weeks passed. Months passed. A year and a half passed, and with each moment that passed, Antonio and Lovino's relationship grew tighter, and tighter, and tighter.

"Lovi, that's not how you do it."

"Shut the fuck up. I'm learning."

"You're an insurance worker that's just learning how to use Excel?"

"Antonio! Shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you!"

"Oh? I'd like to see you try~"

"Yeah, you would. Fucking man-slut."

"Do you need help, Lovi?"

"No, I don't need your goddamn help. I'd rather have a camel try to teach me how to work this piece of crap."

"Lovi, you're beautiful."

"And you're fucking ugly."

_And when it went away, he waited his entire life for it to come back to him._

"You don't have to go."

"But I do, Lovi."

"No, you don't."

"I do. I'm sorry. It's just for three months."

"_Just_ for three fucking months, huh?"

Antonio sighed softly, before reaching out and pulling his Italian friend to his chest tightly.

"I'll miss you." The words were whispered into soft chocolate hair, and Lovino go this strange, light-headed sensation from that simple statement.

"...Just...just don't forget that this is your home...asshole."

A chuckle, followed by a sweet, lilting Spanish accent.

"I couldn't forget, Lovi. That'd be a sin. Like killing a mockingbird."

The next three months were quiet. Lovino was lonely. He hadn't been talking to anyone throughout the entire time period. He sometimes stayed up late at night missing Antonio; missing his eyes, his smile, his laugh.

Three months without the sun's energy hitting Lovino's world was the most difficult part of his life. But...eventually, his world turned just around the river bend, and his sun was back, filling up his world with beautiful, glorious light.

His hands clutched Antonio's jacket, burying his face into the sun's shoulder so the other wouldn't see him cry.

A light, breathy laugh escaped from the sun, and Antonio's warm arms surrounded him.

"I missed you, Lovi."

"...Missed you, too, ugly."

_It was more than just a comet because of what it brought to his life: direction..._

"Where's the fucking stapler?! I swear to Jesus Christ Almighty it was _right...fucking...here!"_

Lovino stomped around the entire office, looking high and low for where the goddamned fucking thing was, hollering at people to get the fuck out of his way.

He was in the middle of frantically shovelling through a wide-eyed colleague's desk when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Oh, he knew exactly who was behind him.

"Fucking _what, _Antonio?" He snarled savagely, whipping around to glare daggers at said Spaniard.

Antonio, calm and collective, simply raised his hand, the stapler perched in his palm like it belonged there.

"It was in _your_ drawer, Lovi," Antonio explained, grinning widely, handing the Italian the stapler. "Maybe you should look in your own things before going neurotic with everybody else's stuff." And with a giggle, the Spaniard trotted away, leaving a befuddled Lovino standing in his spot, mouth probably flopped open like a moron.

Silence.

And then, the pounding of his feet against the floor.

"You motherfucker! You probably _put_ it in my drawer, you stupid son of a bitch!"

Ever since, Antonio's pointed Lovino in the right direction. Whether it was physically or emotionally, the young Spaniard always pointed Lovino down the path to success.

_Beauty..._

Lovino rapped on the bathroom door, tapping his foot impatiently. "Antonio! Move your ass! You're going to be late, dammit!"

"Sorry, Lovi, sorry!" Finally, the door swung open, revealing Antonio in a wrinkly light blue shirt, black dress pants, shiny dress shoes, and a God-awful dark blue necktie.

Lovino's Spanish friend looked embarrassed, for his cheeks were stained crimson. "Erm...how do I look?"

In Lovino'c cold, hard eyes, Antonio looked like the most gorgeous creature he had ever laid his eyes on. Truly beautiful, poetry in motion, even in that crumpled blue shirt.

Lovino's expression softened, and he sighed, raising his hands to rub down Antonio's chest in an attempt to smooth out the wrinkles (and totally not in an excuse to touch Antonio's firm chest).

"You look...like a moron. But I guess you always look like that."

Completely opposite to what somebody else would do or say, Antonio laughed, and he did something that sent Lovino's mind into hysterics. He reached up with one hand, and he lightly traced the Italian's bronze cheek. It wasn't the action itself that made Lovino blush like a madman; Antonio wasn't the first to pet his cheek like that. It was...it was...it was how completely different this felt in comparison to somebody else doing this, but as well as how completely similar this felt.

Did that even make sense? No, Lovino, you're stupid.

It was weird, frightening, almost, but _fuck_, it felt...nice.

The back of Antonio's forefinger traced from Lovino's cheekbone down to just the edge of his jaw, casual, nonchalant.

"And you look like a Lovi no matter what you wear. Don't change that. Lovis always look good."

The Italian flushed, both with embarrassment and pride, and he let a small smile graze his lips.

"Shut up ad let me fix your damn tie, you presentable motherfucker."

_Meaning._

Lovino was crazy for Antonio. No...he was absolutely _mental_ for the guy. Delirious. Delusional. Dizzy. Lots of other words that begin with D.

He hated admitting this to himself, because it sounded pathetic, but he didn't know where he would be if Antonio hadn't walked through that door some months ago. He'd be sitting alone at home, watching snooker late night and jerking off to gay couples on the Internet who look like their lives are way better than his own.

Right now...Lovino was the happiest he could ever be. His family had never made him feel so good about himself, no lovely romance book could make him feel this giddy, no dreamy Hollywood actor could make him feel this _enamoured_. What was that word Antonio used? Oh, yes: neurotic. Antonio was his neurotic, and Lovino was a skittish druggie craving one more hit. Not a crush, a lust. Not a crave, a need. Not a want, a requirement. _That's_ how high Antonio was on the scale of crushes.

But...wasn't Lovino being a bit, well, stupid and careles about this all? Falling and lusting for just some guy? Upon the billions of men on this earth, he wanted this one in particular? Hell, having a crush on Orlando Bloom would save everybody's time and money. Having a celebrity crush is harmless, having a crush on your best friend is harmful.

But Lovino didn't care. He wouldn't care if Antonio never returned his feelings. He wouldn't care if Antonio got a girlfriend. And he wouldn't care if Antonio hated him for being gay. He simply would not give a damn, and would still continue to thank the Lord every night for bringing him a lovely, wonderful best friend.

_There were many who couldn't understand, and sometimes he walked among them._

Why do I like him? Lovino thought one day, peering out of the corner of his eye at his Spanish buddy walking back inside the large office. No...not walking...that happy fuck was _skipping._ Fucking skipping.

He was loud, oblivious, too cheerful, and just a fucking moron. A tornado of dumb. A calamity.

Right on cue, Antonio looked Lovino's way to flash him a thousand-watt grin, and wave like he was a little kid at the circus.

"Hi, Lovi-oh, whoops!"

When he had called out to the Italian, he had taken his sights off of where he was walking, and he crashed into someone.

That someone...was the Flying Dutchman.

Uh-oh.

Daan turned around slowly, and even at a distance Lovino could see the dark, furious _hate_ in this guy's menacing green eyes. That's also when Lovino noticed the ugly brown coffee stain on this guy's crisp and clean white shirt.

Antonio swallowed hard, jade eyes wide, and slowly began backing away from the Dutch.

"Ahaha...uh, h-Hi, Daan...um...I gotta go. Lovi'll clean this up, bye!"

And just like that, the stupid asshole turned on his heel and dashed out of the office again.

Daan turned to Lovino with a heavy sigh, his expression losing its hardness.

"Why do you even like him?" The Dutch asked Lovino softly, like he really and truly wanted to be friends with the Italian. "Can't you see how much of a freak he is?"

Oh, he could. Definitely. But it wasn't something that Antonio had to be hated for. Being weird and freak isn't a bad thing, but Lovino knew that Daan hated Antonio for that, and possibly himself, too. The questions that Lovino knew Daan wanted to ask weren't said out loud, but they didn't need to be said.

_'Are you a homo, too? Do you have the hots for me? We need some strong people working at this company, so you don't have time to crush after hot guys.'_

Lovino simply shrugged in response to the Dutchman's question, not finding it necessary to use words.

"What, you need your boyfriend to speak up for you?"

He didn't know how, but somehow Lovino punched Daan straight in the nose.

_But even in his darkest hours, he knew in his heart that someday it would return to him, and his world would be whole again..._

Needless to say, punching Daan in the nose was indeed not the smartest thing to do. Lovino was 'let go' by his boss, saying that there were many other options for him, that this was the last straw, that Daan is probably going to sue him and the company, yadda yadda yadda.

Antonio didn't need anybody to stand up for him, but Lovino just felt it was something he needed to do. After he did it, he felt triumphant, and pleased, and heroic, and everything that he didn't even care that he lost his job. He would do anything for Antonio. Maybe.

Speaking of, Lovino hadn't seen or spoken to his Spanish friend in a while. It was roughly two weeks after the incident that Antonio dropped by and said something.

Lovino was sitting on the couch in his living room, watching reruns of _Three's Company_, eating caramelized popcorn, and drinking Perrier water when the doorbell rang.

With a groan, the Italian press pause on his remote, pushed himself off the couch and dragged his ass to the door, not really expecting company at all.

As soon as the door opened, lo and behold, his best friend stood their looking usually upset.

"How _could_ you?!"

Lovino blinked, feeling slow and lethargic, not comprehending. "Huh?"

"How could you do that to yourself, Lovi?"

"Do what?"

"You know! Get yourself fired like that!"

Oh. "I...I dunno."

Antonio let himself inside the house, pushing past Lovino angrily. "I can't believe you."

"What? Why are you so pissed?"

"Why am I pissed? I'm pissed because my best friend did something really fucking stupid."

Whoa there. That was the first time in their entire friendship that Antonio dropped the F-bomb on the Italian. Lovino frowned, closing the door and turning to find Antonio sitting on the couch, legs crossed tightly and eyes looking away with a scowl on his face. "Don't freak out. It's not a big deal."

"You _hit_ someone. Lovino, that's assault!"

"Someone had to hit him some day or another."

"No, no one had to! Stop acting like what you did was so goddamn heroic. You didn't do a good deed."

"Sure I did. It felt good."

"You're a fucking asshole, you know that?"

"I did it for you, alright?!"

Finally, Antonio glanced at him, his eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed.

"...Wh-What?"

"I did it because of you," Lovino repeated in a much quieter voice, slinking over to the couch and plopping down, facing away from Antonio.

The Spaniard shifted, looking more interested, and turned his body completely towards Lovino. "...Me?"

The young Italian nodded, scowling tightly. "Yeah. Daan was saying shitty things about you behind your back, I got pissed, and I...popped him in the nose. Yeah." He shrugged like it was no big deal.

Antonio, however, disagreed with that. A delicate hand rested on his chest, and he was surprisingly blinking back tears. "L-Lovi...that's so...that's so sweet..."

Lovino only looked back at Antonio when he heard a soft sob. It felt like his ribcage was tightening around his heart, squeezing it tightly.

"Hey...hey, hey, don't cry...Toni, don't cry," He whispered, and hesitantly inched towards Antonio on the couch with open arms. The Spaniard all but fell into his friend's arms, wrapping his own arms around Lovino's waist, hugging him near and dear.

With a sigh and a blush, Lovino raised his hand to pet Antonio's trembling shoulder's reassuringly. "You're being dramatic. This isn't a soap opera."

"N-No, I'm n-not!" The Spaniard whimpered, closing his eyes and burying his face into Lovino's neck, so close the Italian could feel wet lashes against his skin. He shivered. This really wasn't the time to start fantasizing about Antonio...

"I-I'm not being dramatic...th-this is really h-how...how I feel..." Antonio choked out, his voice throaty as if he hadn't drunk anything for a couple of hours.

But then Antonio said something that made Lovino feel like a king.

"N-No one's ever...ever done something like that t-to me...thank you...thank you, thank you, Lovi...for being such a good friend to me...even if I'm not worth it..."

Good friend, huh? The young Italian sighed. Oh, well. He could secretly enjoy this moment while it lasted. "Yeah...yeah, no problem."

It lasted a long while, luckily for Lovino. He wasn't sure how long they sat there like that on the couch. Hours, maybe...days, weeks...maybe just a few minutes. The sobs quited down, and Antonio was so still Lovino was convinced he fell asleep.

His hand raised, and his fingers gently carded through soft chestnut hair. Maybe...maybe it'd be okay...to touch Antonio...just for a little while.

The Italian's index finger twisted around a chocolate lock, curling it until it had completely trapped his finger, before letting go and watching the lock bounce back into place.

"What time is it, Lovi?"

The voice shocked Lovino. He retracted his hand as if he was burned, and his cheeks were set aflame. Oh, shit...so he wasn't sleeping...fucking hell.

"S-Sorry," He mumbled in embarrassment. "I didn't know you were awake..."

"It's fine. It felt nice."

There were a couple of moments of silence between the two, and that's when Lovino remembered he was asked a question.

"I-It's about...four o'clock."

"Oh...okay. Hey, Lovi?"

"Yeah?"

Antonio shifted slightly, and Lovino reduced the tightness of the grip he had on the Spaniard.

"I...I have a confession to make."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. I think...no...I _know _I have a crush on someone."

Lovino chest tightened again, much more painfully that it did before. "Oh...oh, really?"

"Yeah." Antonio sighed, and when he spoke, his voice was dreamy. "I really, really like him."

"That's...that's nice," Lovino muttered, wanting to know who this fucker was that stole Antonio's heart. "What's he like?"

"Oh, Lovi, he's...perfect. He's everything anyone could ever want. Beautiful, sweet..everything in between. His grandpa is usually on TV, doing some cooking shows, so he's kind of famous."

"So you like this guy because of his looks and famous grandpa?"

"No, no, he has an amazing personality, too. I wouldn't change anything about him. He's so perfect."

Lovino hummed, wondering what it would be like to trace Antonio's ear with his finger, feel his soft hair once more. "What's his name?"

He could feel the hesitancy in Antonio's body as he shifted again, and he shifted so that he slowly raised his head to look Lovino in the eye.

God...they were so close...the tips of their noses were almost touching, and Lovino could just barely feel the Spaniard's warm breath against his lips, making his cheeks flush scarlet.

Antonio was blushing, too, looking gorgeous and lovely and so very enticing as his pink tongue darted out to nervously lick his own lips.

"Vargas," He whispered. "Lovino Vargas. Isn't that such an incredible name?"

And with that, Antonio closed the distance between their lips.

_And his belief in God and love and art would be re-awakened in his heart._

God...the kiss lasted. The feeling of Antonio's soft, warm lips against his own was mystifying. They were slightly moist and damp, but Lovino would compare them to pure silk. A moment that lasted maybe fifteen seconds stretched on into eternity in Lovino's mind. The kiss unhooked, unplugged every tense muscle in his body, and left him in a puddle of hot, liquid chocolate. He didn't want to pull away, but his lungs forced him to.

He pulled away gently, electric currents tingling from his fingertips to his toes, and everything was numb except for his cheeks and lips, which felt hot and probably looked beet-red.

Antonio was smiling, looking darling and sweet and just so goddamn perfect it made Lovino want to cry. But then the Spaniard seemed to remember who he was, where he was, and what he did, for his eyes widened, his smile fell, and he let out a small gasp.

"O-Oh, Lovi, I...I-I'm so sorry...!"

He shook his head, moving to stand up, but Lovino had a firm grip on him.

Time slowed to a crawl. Evening sunlight poured in through the windows, hitting Antonio's cheek at the exactly precise angle, making bronze skin catch fire. Lovino traced it with his finger unconsciously, making Antonio shiver but slowly relax.

His thumb was on Antonio's lips, his forefinger under his chin, and he leaned in close to whisper,

"...You've kept me waiting, friend."

_The boy saw a comet, and felt as though his life had meaning._

_A few months later..._

It was 5:45 AM. Antonio and Lovino were sitting on a field. Antonio was sitting in between Lovino's legs, his back against the Italian's chest, feeling snug and warm despite the chilly air.

"Lovi...what are we doing here, Lovi?" The Spaniard murmured, his eyelids feeling droopy and heavy.

Lovino leaned in close to press a soft kiss against the side of Antonio's throat, whispering against golden skin, "Be patient. You're going to see something amazing."

"Mmm, I am already, _la amante._"

"Oh, just hush and watch the damn sky."

A few minutes passed of comfortable silence. Antonio was dozing off in his arms, and Lovino was urging the sun to hurry the fuck up and do its thing already.

Finally, about twenty minutes later of unadulterated silence, a streak of gold flew across the dark blue sky.

"Antonio." The Italian gently shook his boyfriend. "Antonio, look. It's starting."

Brilliant orange poured out of the sun and across the horizon. The sky was now blood red. The furrwed clouds were every shade from palest pink to deep crimson. Dawn broke over the horizon, the brilliant orange egg yolk sun spilled across the clouds as far as the eye could se. Golden light dribbled over the land like syrup on oatmeal. The leaves shimmered like a mirror flecked mosaic and the morning dew sparkled on the bejeweled cobwebs and grass.

Lovino heard a little awed gasp come from his partner, and pleasure bubbled inside of him at the sound.

But the rising of the sun happened much too quickly. It was over too fast. Lovino wished he had a remote so he could rewind, pause, and slow down time to watch the sunrise again and again and again and again.

And so, the beautiful transformation ended on a sweet note, and it seemed to have stunned Antonio into silence. The Italian's name was only said three times for the rest of the morning.

"Lovi?

"Yes?"

"Does the sun do that everyday?"

"Yes."

"Lovi?"

"Yes?"

"That was better than watching TV."

"It was."

"...Lovi?"

"Yes?"

"Everyday is sun day."

* * *

_A/N: _This ficlet was inspired by the lovely Larry video on Le Tube. Of course, I saw the Mavin version instead, since I like shipping cute nerds instead of British celebrities. Check out either vid, yo, and fucking cry like I did. ;u; The audio and lyrics are from One Tree Hill, if you're wondering.

Thanks for reading!

Stay classy.


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